


the lucky one

by rainbowrabblerouser



Category: Doom Patrol (Comics), Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Melancholy, Pre-Relationship, References to Depression, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23424691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowrabblerouser/pseuds/rainbowrabblerouser
Summary: Larry thinks a lot.based on Taylor Swift's "The Lucky One"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CYAvCXyQsw
Relationships: Cliff Steele/Larry Trainor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	the lucky one

Larry’s old as shit.

He is a certified geezer. He would’ve gotten social security. That is, if the government knew he was alive. He could have had a nice life with John. One with kisses and touches and dancing. 

But he didn’t have that.

He doubted he even deserved it. 

Rita showed him a movie one night and they just cried for a few hours.

A lot of their nights had been like that. Rita would find some gay movie and they’d just sob for a while about it. Rita understood his pain. She just wanted him to feel something again. She loved him like he was her brother, like they knew each other before.

He imagined what it would have been like if they had met like that. He’d bump into her at a club or the street and they’d have a nice conversation.

“Would you have been my friend? Even if I was a bitch.”

He laughs as he and Rita dance, her arms on his waist, his hands around her neck. She leads him. She had been leading him for decades.

“I would have been your best friend  _ because _ you’re a bitch.”

She holds him close.

Larry imagines going to her wedding, helping her pick out dresses, and taking her to brunch in fancy outdoor cafes. Sipping coffee with her and laughing as they talked about their husbands.

“I think you were a twink.” 

Cliff was a dick, but he was their dick. 

He was hurting. A lot. 

Larry understood him. It was just a pitiful display of sadness and bravado when he spoke to them during therapy. He just knew Cliff was the type of guy who would act tough then cry at the movies over a dead dog. 

He knew him better than he even knew himself.

Cliff just wanted to be noticed. Larry used to be glad that he had been visible before. He had yearned for attention. Now he was relieved no one could really see him. He could fade away into the background.

Larry used to cry about being lonely when he was younger. As a teen, he’d spent hours just sobbing alone in his bedroom, thinking about how he’d be alone forever while everyone else got to be with someone. 

He would have nightmares about having to be married to someone he didn’t love truly. He would cry until it hurt to open his eyes. He would still keep this habit up through adulthood. Larry’s wife wouldn’t ever understand why he cried so hard late into the night.

All he would think about was how badly he handled his relationship with John. He was really in love with him. They could have run away, but no.

Larry was an awful man for what he did to him.

He broke his heart and just said nothing. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe he didn’t deserve love.

Later in life, Larry had learned something: not all men are created equal.

Some were lucky enough to have love, while some were lucky enough to live long, though it came at a price.

Larry was doomed from the start. He wanted to see the fucking stars. He wanted to have everything. He wanted John, but he wanted to keep his kids. John begged him to just choose, but the crash chose for him. 

Neither. 

He could have neither and that was that. Plain and simple.

Lawrence.

He never liked being called that. His parents thought it was a stand-up name. Larry thought it was the name of an asshole. How fitting.

Lawrence was the young boy his parents had caught playing with the other boys. Lawrence was a dumb queer. He was the fag boy that couldn’t explain why he had a crush on his classmates. He was the failure. He was the epitome of his father’s failure and his mother’s strife.

Larry.

Larry was Rita’s best friend. Larry was the guy who potted plants. Larry was the dude with glasses. Larry was a nice man. He would doodle and scribble in his notebook, poems for Rita, drawings of his friends. He was the fun guy who would try out karaoke. Larry was John’s. Was.

Now, Larry’s crying again. Rita doesn’t know what to do with him. 

Maybe they needed to slow down and stop rewatching  _ Brokeback Mountain _ .

Larry preferred  _ God’s Own Country _ more anyways.

“Sweet boy” is what she’d call him when he helped her up and walked her to her room. She’d try out new make-up and make flower crowns with him. They’d share stories of boys and heartbreak and laughter and love. 

Rita loved him so much. It pained her to see him like this. 

She was the only one who had seen what he looked like without all of the bandages. He wasn’t as hideous as she was, she thought.

Larry’s the most vulnerable man she had ever met. He had class, and he was rare. He would hold her hand and be gentle, but he could beat up someone and he fought like hell.

Rita might have liked Larry with Cliff had he not been so downtrodden and Cliff had not been so crude. They needed each other. 

If only they weren’t so mean.

Cliff was like the raging waves of the beach, crashing into each other in chaos. Larry was the rocks that withstanded the blows and shaped into new structures. Together, they braved the days and nights.

She supposed she was the sun, Chief was the lighthouse, and Jane was...well, the seagulls that would divebomb you and steal your fries.

Larry knew that when he cried, it just stung his skin and wasn’t worth it half the time. There was no point and there was no end. 

Cliff wouldn’t cry. He refused to do so since he wanted to appear strong and stable when they all knew he was not. He was new. He didn’t understand how it all worked. Chief barely told him about how they operated. 

Larry and Rita had a nice system based around Jane’s erratic behavior. It worked like a charm. Cliff just got in the way of the harmonious arrangement.

He was brash and rude and not nice while Rita and Larry were kind and gentle and melancholic. They’d make lemonade and bask in the sun while Cliff would scream at the stars and punch holes in the wall.

Cliff was expressing his pain...differently. He wasn’t as chaotic as Jane was, but he was getting there. Larry just wanted to sit around and cry with Rita as Casablanca played while Cliff and Jane wanted to terrorize old folks and throw up Zimas in the park and have shouting matches over rock bands.

To each their own, he guessed.

Larry would read the news. Chick-Fil-A homophobic chicken. Gay marriage. RuPaul. Taylor Swift. Equality Act. Lots of new issues. Trans rights. Lesbian flags. The Witcher. Ariana Grande. Carly Rae Jepsen.

So much.

Corona was interesting. 

They never left the house anyway, but it was funny that everyone else would have to live like them for 3 months or more.

Larry would FaceTime John and wish he could hold him.

John would listen and laugh at his jokes. It felt the same as it did before.

He missed the talking.

But he mostly missed the touching.

Cliff was not soft at all. Compared to Larry, who was all soft, Cliff was like a giant mailbox. He clanked and yelled in pain when you knocked him. He was a regular tin man with the brain of a scarecrow. 

Larry supposed he was the cowardly lion. Too afraid to admit his feelings.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Cliff, but he knew he was a very sensitive man. Anything could set Cliff off. 

They can’t kiss nor have sex. They can hold each other. He guessed that’s all right. It was tender. Larry yearned for any touch.

Cliff would hold him until they fell asleep or Cliff rebooted or whatever he did to get rest. They didn’t talk much. Cliff was a man of action; he’d hold his hand and spin him around as Rita played her vintage records. 

Larry pretended to not notice Cliff’s lingering touch. 

It was absurd. They were a mummy and a robot. 

He guessed he liked Cliff well enough. He was still a dick. 

Later, Larry supposed he was his dick.

That was okay.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Mom said it's my turn to project my depression onto this gay character
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CYAvCXyQsw
> 
> tumblr: @rainbowrabblerouser


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